Laughter and Tears
by lalapine
Summary: Prequel to Gethsemane: Scully has regrets & learns a deep secret Mulder has been keeping


TITLE - Laughter and Tears  
AUTHOR - Tammy M. Parnell  
EMAIL ADDRESS: LaLapine@aol.com  
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, as long as my name & disclaimer are on it  
SPOILER WARNING: Memento Mori, Anasazi, Gethsemane  
RATING: PG  
CLASSIFICATION: S   
SUMMARY: Prequel to Gethsemane: Scully has regrets & learns a deep secret Mulder has been keeping  
DISCLAIMER: The are not mine. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox Television, and the very talented actors who portray them.   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My first attempt at first-person narrative.  
  
Laughter and Tears  
by Tammy M. Parnell  
  
Bethesda, MD  
Public Park  
  
I knew he'd come. He always does. Must have tried to call me and worried when I didn't answer.  
  
I watched as he made his way slowly towards me. I turned my attention back to the kids on the playground as he sat beside me. He followed my gaze, and there was the warm comfortable presence of his hand on mine. I think I shocked both of us when I quickly turned and settled my arms snugly around his middle. He hesitated only a moment before engulfing me in his arms. All this without words. We didn't need them.  
  
It seemed like a comfortable forever before I pulled away and leaned against his side. Look at them, I said quietly, nodding towards the children. I hate when I get like this. Thinking of the might-have-beens.  
  
It could still be, he told me.  
  
I'm dying, Mulder. I hated to say it; that made it more true. No white picket fence, husband, and two-point-three kids for me. No dog--that doesn't get eaten by an alligator, anyway.  
  
I saw he couldn't help grinning at my latter comment. Never say never.  
  
I was ever the scientist, trying to remain objective. Even if there was some miracle cure, the chemo has taken care of the rest.  
  
I knew he wouldn't suggest adoption. This wasn't about raising kids. It was about leaving some of myself behind when I was gone. There would be a big chunk of me still in my mother's heart, a place next to Missy and Ahab. In various friends and acquaintances there would be a small chip perhaps, a fond remembrance. And I would be in whatever was left of Mulder's heart--though God knows there wasn't much left to be taken. His father's death, mother's betrayal, sister's disappearance... I feared I would be taking the rest of him with me.  
  
He looked uncomfortable, scared even. Hell, he had good reason. But something seemed especially wrong. His eyes didn't want to face me when he said, I've been keeping something from you.  
  
I'm dying; it's time for confessions. Cleanse your soul before it's too late. Your undying devotion, loyalty, and love? I know that already; hell, YOU know I know it. Nothing has been said, but we've rarely had to rely on words to communicate, at least not when we've both been open with each other. I've lied about my cancer, and you know that, too. I'm fine. You know why I say it, and I still lie. But it's one we both understand.  
  
I finally asked, a bit nervous. Do I want to know?  
  
You'll hate me.  
  
How could I hate someone I love so much?  
  
You'll be mad.  
  
Probably. Go on. God, this was gonna be a whopper.  
  
Just keep in mind, you didn't want to know; you said you weren't ready. But he couldn't go on.   
  
Just say it, I told him after a moment. You think I'll slug you or something?  
  
Is your weapon loaded? his ironic grin reminded me of that grim day I had had to shoot him for his own protection.  
  
Does it need to be? I arched my eyebrow, forcing a smile, thinking perhaps he would compare this secret to the shooting; both of us trying to protect the other.  
  
He stood and reached for my hand. It's something I need to show you, too.  
  
I paused only briefly before accepting the gesture, gritting my teeth in determination. I would get through this, whatever it was. WE would get through it.  
  
***  
  
Arlington, VA  
Apt. 42  
  
I wanted to slap him senseless. I wanted to hug him till he couldn't breathe. In the end I just stood there, mouth gaping like an idiot. I finally managed to shut my jaw, settling for a blank stare. I had him worried; the calm before the storm. Hell, I had myself worried. Then I laughed. It trickled out slowly like fresh molasses, but then it rolled from my shaking torso uncontrollably, hysterically. The humor and horror were too much to bear.  
  
I choked out through my hysterics, Great conversation piece, Mulder. My partner and best friend keeps my frozen ova in his freezer behind the HungryMan TV dinners.  
  
Hiccoughs took over my voice, and my mouth got that familiar metallic taste. This well-known routine didn't phase me as I grabbed a paper towel from the nearby roll, my laughs not skipping a beat. I was so pathetic. My life was unbelievable.   
  
As I dabbed at my nose, I scared poor Mulder even more as I babbled along, I can see the headline now: FBI agent keeps in his freezer his partner's eggs that were sucked out by extra-terrestrials. With that comment I sank to the ground. It was just too damn funny.   
  
The humor of the situation seemed lost on him, but his confused, pathetic face just made me laugh harder. I couldn't stop myself as I saw the situation from an outsider's viewpoint.  
  
It was funny all right, but Mulder wasn't buying my amusement anymore. Neither was I. I knew I wasn't an outsider. This was my life. My pathetic, fading life, but mine just the same. I started to cry, inconsolable wracking sobs. He leaned beside me on the floor and wrapped his arms tightly around me. I let him as my body shuddered from exhaustion and pain. I was dying. There was nothing funny. People had taken me, a part of me away that could never come back. My dignity was gone. My life was slowly going, too. I'm-dying-i'm-dying-i'm-scared-hold-me-mulder-hold-me-and-never-let-go.  
  
I woke up on his sofa. I didn't remember falling asleep, but a thin blanket covered me, my shoes were off, and a cool cloth rested soothingly on my head. Only a few feet away was Mulder, head on his hands, elbows on his knees. Waiting. Watching. Praying.  
  
I'm back, I told him, sitting up, trying to ignore the aching in my head.  
  
I'm sorry. His face told me just how much, and I found it hard not to go to him and give him comfort. But I was angry, too.  
  
I asked his downtrodden face. Why didn't you tell me? Why your freezer for Godsakes?!  
  
Well, I couldn't exactly keep it at the Bureau. THEY would have found it.  
  
But you wanted proof.  
  
he shook his head firmly. That's not why I kept it.  
  
But that's why you took it, isn't it? To have proof that I was wrong, and you were right. I was taken, and things were done to me. Are you happy to have this?  
  
No. Part of me wishes I'd never found it. But I did. I wanted to tell you. But, Scully, you never would have believed me. You're the scientist; you're the one who needs proof. Every time I try to show you something that would lead us closer to the truth, the evidence disappears before I get the chance. I didn't want that to happen this time.  
  
Why tell me now? I was tired.  
  
He moved from the chair and sat beside me, a hand finding its way on my knee as his hazel eyes gave me that damn, irresistible puppy-dog look. To give you hope.  
  
God, I hated the tears that seemed to come from nowhere nowadays. My voice was shaky, so I said no more.  
  
I see the way you've been looking at kids lately, Scully. You've mentioned before you always thought you'd have your own someday. And now that you think it's too late, you realize how much you counted on that, on at least the possibility.  
  
How could he know me so well? I turned my face from him; the tears were slinking out now.  
  
So, there's the possibility of in vitro--  
  
I cut him off then as I jumped up. I'm dying! I yelled it as loud as I could. DYING! Don't you get it?  
  
He looked at me calmly as he stood. I refuse to accept that.  
  
It felt like a showdown. We must have stared at each other a solid minute before I returned to the couch, him the skeptic, me the believer. I'm so scared, Mulder. It was barely a whisper.  
  
So am I, he confided, his arm around me once more. Why did I suddenly need him so much? I've always needed him, I reminded myself. But I'm too weak now, my defenses are down. And I don't even give a damn.  
  
Do you really think he'll let us have a cure? Do you really think we'll win this round? It was too much to hope for. Too much disappointment to expect.  
  
We have to, he said, his lips brushing my forehead. No matter what it takes.  
  
I pulled slightly away, needing to see his gentle eyes. Even if the answer is found by believing the lies rather than finding the truth?  
  
He didn't hesitate. Even then. I knew losing the X-Files, if it came to that, would hurt him. But for four years we'd had each other above all else. If we're together, we succeed. Trouble is, THEY know that. THEY know our strength is connected, our lives intertwined. Killing one literally, means killing the other emotionally. THEY had spared me once, temporarily. Would THEY do it again? Or was Mulder too close to the truth?  
  
I'll resign, he said suddenly. They'll think I'm giving in.  
  
I shook my head. Knowing. They'll never believe it.  
  
If I'm given a choice--  
  
Then you would still find a way to go behind their backs. They know it. They'll never allow it.  
  
Not unless I'm dead.  
  
This comment sunk deep into the silence. Its reality struck us at the same time, our minds as in sync as ever.  
  
If they thought you were--  
  
I could pretend to be--  
  
Our slowly spreading smiles matched. I asked uncertainly, How could we make it work?  
  
Make it look like a suicide. He seemed so sure, so determined.  
  
I'll get a body. God only knew where. And they'll call me to I.D. it. This was a given.  
  
I'll be cremated, he said confidently. I know a guy who can do make-up so if anyone else sees the body before it's done, it'll look somewhat like me.  
  
Where will you go? Will I ever see you again?  
  
To find the truth.  
  
I didn't have time to question him. It was better for me not to know. But he didn't know the cancer was spreading. All the more reason for him to hurry. Could he really find a cure? I got up quickly, straightening my rumpled blouse.   
  
You've got the party at your mother's tonight, right?  
  
I nodded, somewhat dreading facing the whole group, knowing Bill would be present for once, and suspecting my mother had something up her sleeve. Yes. I have to go.  
  
Of course. We have some time.  
  
No, we don't. Yeah. But the sooner the better.  
  
He nodded. I'll make some calls.  
  
We looked long at each other, sizing the other up, memorizing faces. I'll see you tomorrow at work, I said finally, as though everything was normal. Missing him already, feeling his impending absence deep inside. Afraid of being alone. Afraid of leaving him alone.  
  
Right. See you then.  
  
I hesitated only slightly, wondering if such an impossible plan would really work. But more pressing things were weighing down on me for the moment. Be happy, Dana, I insisted to myself. Put on the smile, and make it through this party with your family. It could be the last.   
  
I squeezed his shoulder quickly before heading for the door.   
  
What about...? he stopped me with his half-posed question, obviously wishing he didn't have to bring it up.  
  
Leave them, I said, not wanting to deal with my forgotten past and a future that might never happen. I had to focus on the present.  
  
  
  
I left then, knowing that if a cure was not to be found, my strength--i.e. Mulder--would not be there for me when I needed him most. He would be off on an impossible search. And I would be here, living a lie--or dying one. But would THEY believe the lie?  
  
***  
  
See to continue the story....  
  
***  
  
Deep Throat told me to trust no one. Before I could only trust myself. Now I can only trust you.  
  
--Mulder, in a tape recording to Scully, LITTLE GREEN MEN  



End file.
